


The White Knickers of Surrender

by iwant2baweasley (becboobear)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, HP: EWE, Post Deathly Hallows, Smut, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-23
Updated: 2012-04-23
Packaged: 2017-11-04 04:16:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becboobear/pseuds/iwant2baweasley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day Draco stumbled upon a topless Hermione sunbathing on a Mediterranean beach, he declared it fate. She called it stalking. It leads to a series of events that ends with a pair of white, cotton knickers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The White Knickers of Surrender

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BelleBelles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelleBelles/gifts).



When Hermione imagined her Mediterranean holiday during those long hours behind her desk at the Daily Prophet, she had pictured sandy beaches, little hole in the wall shops and touring local Wizarding sights.

She had not pictured Draco Malfoy showing up, especially not while she was lying topless on the beach.

“Ah, Granger, don’t be shy,” the tall, thin, blonde smirked as she pulled a t-shirt on. “I didn’t mind the view at all.”

“What are you doing here?” She asked, forcing herself to her feet. When it came to dealing with Malfoy, it was better to do so on an equal level, or rather, as equal as it could be since he was a good head taller than her.

“On holiday, of course,” he replied.

“Oh and I bet it’s just a coincidence that you ended up in exactly the same place I went on holiday,” she retorted.

“Personally, I think it’s fate,” he shrugged. “Or coincidence. Same thing.”

“Fate?” She scoffed.

“Yes, fate, Granger,” he replied. “How else do you explain that I’ve been here for five days and the first time I see you, you’re half naked and waiting for me.”

“Waiting for _you_?!” She shrieked. “I was not waiting for you, _Malfoy_.”

“Say what you want, Granger, but we both know the truth,” he smirked. “You want me.”

“I’d rather get spattergroit,” she retorted, forcing her straying eyes to focus on his face and not his toned, shirtless chest.

“Your body says otherwise,” he smirked as his eyes flicked south then back up.

“Just because all the _bimbos_ at the paper throw themselves at you, doesn’t mean I will,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Oh admit it, Hermione,” he smirked. “You like what you see.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. Of course she wouldn’t admit that she found his silver eyes sexy or that she mentally drooled over the way his features had matured to the perfect combination of Malfoy- and Black-family likeness. Nor would she ever admit to him, or anyone else for that matter, that she often found herself short of breath when he came into her office in a perfectly tailored suit.

“Believe me, I don’t,” she replied. “I see you as nothing more than a Ministry-appointed pain in my arse who spends more time looking at himself in the mirror than actually doing any work.”

He smirked, making her want to slap him across the face.

Clutching her arms tighter to her chest, she said, “And I don’t believe for a second that coincidence or fate had something to do with you ending up at the same beach as me.”

“What are you implying?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“I’m not implying anything, yet,” she retorted. “So why don’t you just go home before I start.”

Done with the conversation, Hermione grabbed her stuff and walked off.

\-----

When he closed his eyes, hours later, he could still see her pert, tan breasts and pink areoles. If only he could have seen them longer or, better yet, gotten his hands and mouth on them. 

Hermione Granger had been the object of his fantasies since fourth year, though he hadn’t been willing to admit it to anyone, even himself, until after the war. If he was honest with himself, he had probably taken a fancy to her in first year, but because he had been an idiot (not to mention, raised by one), he had let the fact that she was Muggle-born (and a Gryffindor) sway his opinion about her.

The night he had almost killed Dumbledore was the night he realized that he had picked the wrong side. He still had scars on his back from the whipping that _he_ had forced his father to give him for lowering his wand.

It had only gotten worse from there. His father’s mistakes and his own had cost the family; _he_ had made them the joke of everything and their status was only higher than that of Peter Pettigrew. His parents had become prisoners in their own home while he had become a prisoner in the castle.

Sometimes, when he was having trouble sleeping, he could still hear the cries for help from the week he spent at home during the Easter holidays. In his worst dreams, he relived the events of _that_ day. The trio showing up, doing everything in his power to make them not call _him_ , watching his aunt torture Hermione, the escape and _him_ threatening the lives of the whole Malfoy family if they ever let Harry Potter escape again.

It had been for the life of his mother and himself that had driven him to seek Harry out that night in the castle. Then Harry had saved him. Then his mother, fearing for his life, had saved Harry. Then Harry had defeated _him_. 

A weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He was free. Free from _him_. His dark mark had started fading away that same day; he was certain that it would never go away entirely, but anything was better than how it had been when _he_ lived.

Then came the trials. His father, a prison escapee, had been sent back to Azkaban with no chance of ever getting out. It was because of Harry’s testimony that he and his mother found themselves only paying retribution for their crimes during the war. They had lost the manor (not that he or his mother had had any interest in ever returning there) and nearly all of the fortune.

With no place to live, he and his mother had found a small flat in Diagon Alley, but upon learning about their living situation, Harry had insisted that they move into Number 12 Grimmauld Place. To his complete shock, his mother had accepted the offer to live in her family home, and he had been forced to go along with it.

The first two years after the war were the hardest and, after the trial, he had a hard time finding work. No one wanted to employ a former Death Eater, especially one who had gotten off scot-free and was a Malfoy.

Desperate for something to do, he volunteered at St. Mungos and slowly his good deeds began to erase his past transgressions.

It was through a patient that he learned of the ministry-appointed position at the Daily Prophet. He had finished his rounds that day and then had gone to the ministry to request that job. It had taken a letter from a Healer and a bit of begging on his part, but the job had become his.

The perks of his job became apparent on his very first day. He had walked into the conference room and there, bent over at the waist and leaning against the table, was Hermione Granger. He had ogled her arse for a few minutes before clearing his throat and announcing his presence.

She had been livid.

And he had been turned on.

That was the last time he had seen her livid, until now.

He sat at a table alone in the middle of the restaurant in the hotel he was staying in. She was staring down at him.

“You have got to be kidding me!” She exclaimed, not bothering to keep her voice down. “What are you doing _here_?”

“I’m staying here,” he replied, calmly. “What are you doing here?”

“Good evening, miss, will you be join-”

“I’d like to order my meal to be sent to my room,” she cut the waiter off.

A chill ran down his spine at the look she gave him before she walked away with the waiter.

\-----

Her biggest issue with Draco was that he was drop dead sexy and he knew it.

He was nothing like Ron, who hadn’t been aware – almost to a fault – of his sexiness. Unfortunately for her, the feelings she had for Ron weren’t more than just friendly ones. Six months of trying to be together had almost ended their friendship.

Luna and her charming personality had swept in and knocked Ron off his feet. Hermione, being the good friend, stepped back and watched the two fall in love, marry and start a family.

As happy as she was for Ron and Luna, she sometimes found herself wishing that she and Ron could have been more than friends. It would have made her life a lot easier.

For example, instead of being on holiday alone, she would be with her boyfriend/husband. They’d take the loud telly noise in room next door as a challenge to make love loudly.

But alas, she was alone and the loud telly only made things worse. Especially since the arse next door wouldn’t answer their bloody telephone.

Frustrated, she climbed out of bed, put on her complimentary dressing gown, slipped on a pair of sandals, shoved her keycard into her pocket and then left the room. She walked down the hall until she reached the door. She knocked loudly and waited.

To her horror, the door opened and revealed Draco.

“Miss Granger,” he said, feigning politeness. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I should have known,” she snapped.

Too tired to explain everything, she pushed past him into his hotel room. She headed straight for the telly and turned down the volume. Satisfied, she turned on her heel and headed for the door, but he closed it and leaned against it.

“Surely that isn’t all you came here for,” he smirked. “Tell me, what’s underneath that dressing gown?”

“I wouldn’t have come over at all if you had answered your bloody phone,” she snapped. “Now let me leave.”

“Now, now, Hermione,” he chided. “Where are your manners? You entered my room without my permission.”

“Must you always be a bloody wanker?” She snapped.

“Oh, feisty,” he said. “Tell me, are you like this in bed too?”

Shoving her clenched fists in her pockets she glared at him.

“Let me leave, Malfoy,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Alright, but let me make one thing very clear,” he said. “The next time you come into my room, I won’t let you leave until you give me what I want.”

“I don’t plan on ever coming back to your room,” she retorted.

“Goodnight, Hermione,” he said, stepping aside and opening the door for her. “Sweet dreams.”

Stepping into the hall, Hermione stole one last glance at him and regretted it instantly for he had chosen that exact moment to stretch, causing his t-shirt to rise and reveal his hip bones and a hint of blonde hair disappearing into his pajama bottoms.

Gulping, she hurried to her room and threw herself against the door as soon as she was safely inside. Her dreams were going to be anything but sweet tonight. They were going to be dirty, dirty, _dirty_.

\-----

After she left his room, Draco considered turning up the volume again, but decided she’d probably kill him if he did. So instead, he turned off the telly and the lights and then got into bed.

In his dreams, he relived her storming into his hotel room, in which everything remained the same up until she [in real life] had left the room. In his dream, she had pulled the sash open on her robe and revealed her magnificent breasts and a pair of white, cotton knickers.

To his utter dismay, it was as he was reaching a hand out to touch her that the alarm clock went off. He cursed loudly as he shut it off and then closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to get the dream back, but he couldn’t. It was gone forever.

Groaning, Draco pulled himself out of bed and padded into the bathroom. He took a quick shower, cold at first, and then used his magical razor to shave. 

Once he was dressed, he looked at the list of things to do and see that his mother had put together for him when she planned this trip. He skimmed the list for the most Hermione-ish thing to do and smiled when he saw that there was a tour for Wizarding History in the Mediterranean. He couldn’t guarantee that she would be on the tour, but he was willing to risk it.

She would accuse him of stalking her, he was sure. He would let her think whatever she wanted, as long as it drove her crazy enough to make her livid, because that was the only time she showed passion around him. 

The truth, however, was that his mother had planned this whole trip for him. It was all a ruse. By sending him away on a holiday, his mother could stay with her sister and work on improving their relationship. So he had been shipped off and his mother was with her sister.

With the tour only thirty minutes away, he made his way to the wizarding pub a few blocks from the hotel and spotted Hermione as soon as he entered. He kept his distance, not wanting to let her escape.

He waited until they were on a bus that reminded him of the Knight Bus before he made his presence known by sitting down in the seat beside her.

“Goo-” her eyes widened, then grew cross. “You! You! You’re stalking me.”

“You say stalking, I say fate,” he shrugged. “How would I have known you’d be on this tour?”

She glared at him before crossing her arms and turning her back towards him.

The tour took them all over the Mediterranean. They saw Quidditch stadiums, a few Wizard-only communities, the sites of famous wizard duels and a Dragon sanctuary.

Draco stayed close to Hermione at each stop and he knew it annoyed her, but in the end it worked out to her advantage, as he was able to take a picture of her in front of whatever they were visiting. 

Every time he took a picture for her, she said thank you. 

On the way back to the pub, all that appreciation she had shown him, gave him the courage to say, “I think we should call a truce.”

“A truce,” she repeated.

“Yes, we both came here planning on being alone,” he said. “But I think we would get more out of this holiday if we did things together and for that I think we need to call a truce.”

“And the truce only applies to the rest of the holiday?” She asked.

“Sure,” he shrugged.

“Alright,” Hermione nodded. “But if I tell you I want to be alone, you won’t follow me, right?”

“Why, do you plan on visiting one of those nude beaches?” He laughed, but stopped when she didn’t say anything. “You are? Merlin! Let me come with you.”

“No,” she shook her head. “You’ve seen more than enough for my liking.” She held out her hand. “Do we have a deal?”

“Deal,” Draco took her hand and shook it.

\-----

She would never admit it to him, but Draco wasn’t horrible company when he wasn’t trying to charm his way into her knickers. 

During their wizarding tour, he rattled off more facts about the wizards back in England and those around the world than she could have ever known. He even told her about traveling abroad most of the year during his pre-Hogwarts years.

The most amusing thing to her about the whole situation was that she didn’t think he knew he talked so much. The Draco she’d always known had been the strong silent type, more likely to glare at you than tell you verbally how he felt; unless he was trying to bug Harry, of course. The Draco she spent the day with, on the other hand, had talked and talked like it was a nervous habit he couldn’t stop.

During the few days that followed, he accompanied her to several Muggle landmarks. She and Draco successfully visited what would have taken her weeks to see the Muggle way in just three days. His nervous talking habit came, too, and he only stopped talking when she explained something to him or answered a question.

Occasionally, he would offer a Wizarding tidbit that she wasn’t sure if it was just a myth or fact. One she was certain was a myth was his insistence that the Leaning Tower of Pisa was not actually leaning, but that a jinx had been placed upon everything else in Pisa, making them lean, and the tower, being the only straight thing, looked odd. She spent an hour trying to convince him otherwise, showing him all sorts of research done by Muggle scientists and architects, but he refused to believe it.

On the fifth day of her holiday with Draco, they made their way to the heart of the Muggle town nearby, a place he wouldn’t venture to by himself. They had breakfast at a small family-run restaurant and then did a bit of shopping before returning to the hotel for lunch.

After a quick meal in the hotel’s restaurant, they agreed to spend the rest of the day on the beach and went up to their respective rooms to change. Once they were ready, they met in the hallway and then walked to the beach where their coexistent holiday had begun.

“Feel free to take your top off,” he smirked.

“You wish,” she retorted.

“I don’t understand,” he said, sitting down on the blanket he had laid next to hers. “You won’t go topless around me, someone you’ve known since you were eleven, but you’re perfectly comfortable letting complete strangers see you?”

“The difference is that I’ll never have to see them again,” she replied.

“So if you were to have a holiday fling,” he started. “You’d pick that guy -” he pointed to a guy about their age nearby “- over me, because you’d never seen him again?”

“Yes and no,” she replied. “I wouldn’t have a fling with a complete stranger, but I certainly wouldn’t have one with you.”

“Why the bloody hell not?”

“We work together, Draco,” she shook her head. “It would make everything too awkward.”

“It would only be awkward if we let it,” he stated.

“Not going to happen.” She closed her eyes and lay back on her blanket.

“But just say if -”

She opened one eye and silenced him with a piercing look.

“If I decide to take our relationship, and I use that word loosely, to _that_ level, I assure you, you’ll be the first to know,” she told him. “Until then, keep your thoughts on that subject to yourself.”

That _if_ came a lot sooner than she thought it would. Instead of being the months or years that she had imagined, it came within a few short hours of her declaration.

After leaving the beach, they went back to the hotel to cleanup for dinner. Instead of eating in the hotel’s restaurant, they took a cab to a nearby restaurant that doubled as a nightclub. They ate a delicious meal and then went upstairs for a little drinking and dancing.

Upon returning to the hotel a little after one in the morning, he walked her to her door and watched as she went inside. In the two seconds it took her to cross her room, she knew she didn’t want to be alone that night.

She slipped off her dress and pulled on her complementary dressing gown and then, with her keycard in her pocket, she left the room and walked down the hall to his room.

As if expecting her, he opened the door and said, “Do you remember the warning I gave you about coming into my room again?”

“Why do you think I’m here?” she retorted, pushing past him and going into the room.

Once the door was closed, she undid the sash on her dressing gown and revealed a pair of lacy green knickers and a matching bra.

\-----

MERLIN’S PANTS!

He forgot to breathe as he took in the sight before him. It was nothing like he’d ever imagined; it was better.

Wanting to memorize everything, he closed his eyes tightly. He memorized the scene before him and then mentally ran through all of the fantasies he had ever had of Hermione. In the fantasies where he saw her bra and knickers, he replaced the basic, white cotton with the green lace.

“What are you doing?” Her voice broke into his mind.

“Reimagining every fantasy I’ve ever had where you’re wearing knickers,” he muttered, eyes still closed.

“Why?” She asked.

He ignored her question and continued his mental refresh.

“Draco!” He heard her snap her fingers and knew his time was up.

“Your knickers,” he said, opening his eyes. “I’ve always imagined you as a white cotton type.”

“I haven’t wore knickers like that since fourth year,” she informed him.

He groaned and closed his eyes, suddenly picturing an oh-so-naughty pair of knickers below the dress robes she had worn to the Yule Ball.

“Are we actually going to do this or are you going to fantasize about it all evening?” She asked; her voice snippy.

Draco opened his eyes and saw that she had removed the dressing gown, leaving her in nothing but her bra, knickers and the high heels she had worn dancing. Wanting to prove that he wanted to do this, he caught her eye as he began to undress.

Only when he removed his button down did her eyes leave his. Somewhat emboldened by her lack of digression when it came to checking out his body, he made a show of removing the last pieces of his clothing. An internal debate ran through him when he got down to just his shorts. Take them off now or wait? Now won as he slipped his hands under the waistband and dropped the shorts to the ground.

He could feel the heat of her eyes on his cock, which rose quickly as a result of the attention.

Licking his lips, he sought out her eyes and issued a nonverbal challenge to her. 

She accepted his challenge and reached her hands back and unclasped her bra. His eyes immediately flickered to the tan mounds and he licked his lips, again, in anticipation.

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but sometime after she finished taking off her bra and when she shimmied her knickers off, he had wrapped his hand around his cock and had begun to pump it.

With her high heels still on, she walked towards him and, like in half a dozen of his fantasies of her, she knelt down in front of him and shooed his hands away.

Her much smaller hands were cold at first touch, but he forgot all about it as one of her hands wrapped around his shaft and the thumb of the other brushed across the head, making him groan. As she pumped him, his hips rocked forward, creating a steady rhythm that only got interrupted when she snuck a lick.

Caught off guard, he stumbled backwards and slammed his back against the door. Though he was sure there would be a bruise on his back from the door handle, he was immensely thankful for the support when she abandoned the slow, sensual licks and slid him into her mouth.

He wound his hands in her curly locks as she drew him in and out of her hot little mouth. If this had been one of his fantasies, he would have let himself cum, but this wasn’t a fantasy and he wasn’t sure he’d ever get another chance with Hermione.

Drawing all the strength he could muster, he said, “Hermione. Stop.”

She looked up at him with confusion etched in her beautiful eyes.

“I,” he stammered. “Not yet.”

He let out a shaky breath and then held a hand out to her. He helped her up and then switched spots with her, so she was the one against the door.

Wanting to do this right, he started at her mouth. He kissed each corner then pressed his lips against the center. Feeling her body stiffen against him, he placed a hand comfortingly on her hip then pulled her lower lip into his mouth. It seemed like several minutes before she relaxed against him and opened her mouth.

As their tongues mated, he ran his hands up and down the sides of her body, causing goosebumps to appear on her skin.

She was already breathing heavily when he pulled his mouth from hers and began to kiss down her neck. She arched her chest towards him as he drew closer to the mounds of flesh waiting for him.

Once he finally got to her tits, he resisted the urge to take one into his mouth and suck until his jaw hurt. Instead, he ran his palms over her nipples, feeling them harden against his touch. Each touch and caress of her breasts brought a soft mew from her lips and when he finally flicked one of her tender nipples with his tongue, he was rewarded with a throaty moan.

Her skin tasted sweet, like strawberries, as he fondled one breast in his hand while he worked over the other with his mouth, playing with her nipple and sucking on the fleshy part. As he switched breasts, his hand movements became somewhat softer on the freshly sucked breast.

Pulling away from her breasts, he slowly knelt down in front of her, gliding his hands down her lean torso. He dared a lick at her belly button and smirk against it when she let out a giggle.

Smirking against her hot flesh, he placed his hands on her inner ankles then drew them up, making her shudder. With his hands on her inner thighs, just a breath away from her fanny, she adjusted her stance, widening the distance between her feet.

Not ready to give her what she wanted, he touched her everywhere except where she wanted him to the most. He blew softly against her velvety folds and earned a shuddered cry mixed with a threat on his life.

Smirking, he pressed his thumb directly against her clit, making her cry out again. Backing off quickly, he massaged the area around her clit, but didn’t brush it again. Her throaty moans increased as he used his other hand to spread her lips apart.

Her cries reached his ears as his thumb slipped from her clit, but as he slipped a finger into her, the cries reached a new level. Another level was reached when he slipped a second finger into her. And another when he pressed his tongue against her clit.

He felt her body stiffen just before she filled the room with a passionate cry of release. He kept up his ministrations as she came down from her climax and then slid his fingers from her. He licked her juices off his fingers, loving the taste of the very essence of her, and then stood up.

Her chest was still heaving when his eyes met hers, and he barely had time to register the lustful glaze that had come over her eyes since she had stepped into his hotel room some twenty minutes earlier, before he found himself being pushed towards the closest piece of furniture: an arm chair.

“Fuck me,” she ordered before smothering his lips with hers.

Obeying orders, Draco fell into the chair, pulling her down with him. He guided his cock into her fanny and sucked in a breath as her tight walls enveloped him. He raised his hips off the chair as she began to rock her hips against him.

Just when he had begun to think he wouldn’t embarrass himself by cumming quickly, she began to pant sexily in his ear in between moans. He grabbed her hips to slow her down, wanting it to last as long as it could, but she chose that moment to do a crazy, mind bending move with her hips and he felt himself lose control.

With a loud cry that he was sure would wake the neighbors, he came, spilling his seed deep inside of her. Chest heaving, he reached between their bodies and pressed his thumb against her clit. She came almost immediately, her cries rivaling his own.

Breathing heavily, she slumped against his sweaty chest.

In the aftermath, he realized the only thing that could sober him in that moment: he was in love with her.

\-----

She was a coward. A bloody coward.

She didn’t deserve to be a Gryffindor.

And all because of three little words.

After their first round of sex, they had moved to the bed. Neither of them had been tired, so they had talked and when they had found themselves lost for something to talk about, the snogging had begun. The snogging had led to a second round of sex and to an even more intense orgasm for her than the first two he had brought her.

It had been after five when they slipped under the blankets. He had fallen right to sleep; at least she thought he had. She, on the other hand, had been remembering all of the things he had done to her with his hands, mouth, tongue and, of course, his cock.

It was her name on his lips that had pulled her out of her memories. Her name had been followed with: “I love you.”

Those three little words had sent her body into panic mode. She didn’t know if he’d been talking in his sleep or if he thought that she was asleep.

In full on fight or flight, she fled. She put her dressing gown on and returned to her room with all of her things. Once there, she quickly packed up all her belongings.

It was just before six when she arrived in the hotel lobby, with her suitcase trailing behind her, and checked out. She had then walked to the wizard pub and it was there, before using the floo network, that she had written Draco a quick note, saying she had to return home for a family emergency.

She used the floo network to travel to another pub that was a block away from the Portkey office she had used to schedule her return trip. She waited thirty minutes outside, but she got the first portkey out and arrived in England just after seven thirty.

She went straight home and spent the remaining three days of her holiday alone.

During those days, she had tried distracting herself with books, but even Hogwarts, A History couldn’t keep her thoughts from returning to Draco. 

She knew she had messed things up. The only issue was she wasn’t sure when she messed up. She had narrowed it down to two events, though, the first, actually agreeing to the truce, and the second, fleeing his hotel room.

Despite her confusion, she had decided she wouldn’t let what happened interfere with her work. So, naturally, she avoided being around Draco upon her return to work. She successfully pawned her meetings with him on a lower-ranked associate and made certain she was out of the office or busy elsewhere during those times.

Whenever their paths happened to cross, she could feel him watching her and pretended, on more than one occasional, to not hear him calling her name.

Her avoidance tactics had worked perfectly throughout the work week, but came crashing down upon her Saturday evening.

She had been invited to have dinner with Harry, Ginny, Ron and Luna at the Leaky Cauldron and since it had been awhile since she had done so, she accepted the invitation. The time she spent with the two couples together had diminished greatly as Ron and Luna had a two-year-old at home and Harry and Ginny had a two-month-old. So any time she got to spend with them was a time she cherished.

Which was, aside from the obvious, another reason she was royally pissed off when Draco showed up at the pub. 

Then, to make matters worse, Harry called Draco over. She glared in her best friend’s direction and cursed him mentally. He raised a questioning eyebrow upon catching her look and she knew exactly what he would say if given the chance.

“It’s not that I like him or that I don’t like him,” he had told her more than once during the last five years. “I saved his life and his mom saved mine because I saved his. In a way, we owe each other our lives.”

Of course, he would always add on the fact that he was part of Teddy’s life and, therefore, part of Andromeda’s life. Since she was reconnecting with Narcissa, that meant that he and Draco had to let go of their past to make for a better future.

It wans’t until she heard a polite decline come out of Draco’s mouth that she realized she had missed part of the conversation.

“Oh honestly, Draco,” she heard Ginny sigh. “Just join us.”

“It looks like your table is full,” he said.

“There is room next to Hermione,” Luna pointed out.

“They’re not going to take no for an answer,” Harry chuckled.

“Alright then,” Draco replied. He pulled out a chair and sat down next to Hermione.

She was sure he purposely brushed her thigh with his hand as he sat down.

“So Draco, office gossip says you’re dating someone,” Ginny said.

Hermione picked up her menu and pulled a face behind it. Ginny hadn’t been into gossip until she’d gotten pregnant. Since then it had quickly become one of her favorite things.

“How do you know what’s going on at work?” He chuckled. “You’re on maternity leave.”

Hermione took a deep breath and bit down on her lip. Merlin, he smelt good.

“Just because I’m not there doesn’t mean I don’t have people to keep me in the loop,” Ginny replied.

“Never underestimate a witch’s power to learn things that you don’t want her to know,” Harry muttered. Ron mumbled in agreement.

“I’ll tell you what I’ve told everyone who has asked me.”

Hermione felt herself tense and she, like the others, waited for him to continue.

“I met someone, but we’re not ready to go public yet,” he said after what seemed like ages. She couldn’t see his face but she knew he was smiling.

“OH! At least tell us her name,” Ginny begged.

“No, sorry. I can’t do that.”

Smart bloke. If he had even muttered as much as the letter of her first name, the whole office would have known it by Monday morning.

“You sound like Hermione,” Luna said.

Hermione froze and silently prayed that Luna wouldn’t say anything more.

It was proved to be too little too late when Luna finished by saying, “She met a bloke on holiday, but won’t tell us a single thing about him.” 

Hermione groaned, making a promise to herself to never drink around Ginny again when her friend wasn’t drinking, too.

Lowering her menu, she glared at Ginny, who had the decency to look abashed.

“She was worried about you,” Ginny said in defense. “We’ve all been worried. You came back early and you haven’t been yourself.”

Despite the fact that Draco had pulled his menu up in a pretense to find something to order, she could feel his eyes on her.

“I’m fine,” she assured them all. “Never better, actually.”

“I think it’s because the guy that she met is someone she already knew,” Luna said, apparently ignoring her comment. 

“Maybe someone we all know,” Ginny added.

She wanted to jump up and leave, but she was afraid that Draco would do the same thing and that would be a dead giveaway. So instead, she pulled her menu back up, missing the look that passed between Ron and Harry.

\-----

He was sitting in the kitchen of Number 12 when the doorbell rang and for one fleeting second, he convinced himself that it was Hermione, but then the events at dinner the night before flashed through his mind and he knew it wasn’t her.

He heard his mother answer the door, but couldn’t make out the conversation she was having with whoever had arrived. It wasn’t until he heard her footsteps on the stairs that he realized the visitor might actually be for him.

Less than thirty seconds later, she entered the kitchen with Harry and Ron following her.

“Feel free to help yourselves to some stew,” his mother said, motioning the other two into the room. “I’m off to see Dromeda.” 

Draco saw her pause in the doorway and saw worry stretch across her face. He knew she was remembering the scene in the robes shop years before.

“Go mum,” he told her. “We’ll be fine.”

“Yes, please go, Mrs. Malfoy,” Harry insisted. “Andromeda has been looking forward to having tea with you all week. Teddy went with Ginny and James to spend the afternoon at The Burrow.”

“Alright, I’m going,” she nodded. “I’ll see you boys, uh, men, later.”

Once his mother left, Draco turned to Harry and Ron who remained standing by the door.

“Why don’t we go up to the sitting room,” he suggested. “We’ll be more comfortable up there.”

“Here is fine,” Harry said. He walked over and sat down across from Draco, Ron following his lead.

They sat in an awkward silence for several minutes before Draco cleared his throat. “What can I help you with today?” He asked.

He saw Ron open his mouth and then watched him shut it as Harry gave his head a small shake. When it came to the three of them, Harry acted like a moderator. While Draco’s relationship with Harry had improved two fold since the end of the war, his relationship with Ron hadn’t fared as well. He was sure the reason was that he and Ron lacked the almost familial coexistence he and Harry had begun to share in the years since the war.

“We were hoping you could answer some questions for us,” Harry said. “Specifically concerning yourself and Hermione.”

Draco felt his mouth go dry. They couldn’t know. Could they? If so, then how had they found out? He was certain that Hermione wouldn’t have told them. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, finally finding his voice.

“We’re Aurors,” Ron stated. “We notice things. Clues. We put them together and figure it out.”

Draco swallowed hard. Did they know everything and if they did, what were they going to do to him?

“The clues in this instance are as follows,” Harry said, taking a very business-like tone. “We know that both you and Hermione were visiting the Mediterranean until last week. Hermione returned a few days early, acting strange, and according to your mum and Andromeda, you returned early, too.”

“Then, we find out last night that you two both hooked up with mystery people while on holiday,” Ron jumped in.

“And judging by your reactions to each other and to the comments about the other’s secret lover, we started putting two and two together,” Harry said.

“So, Draco, is there anything you want to tell us?” Ron asked, narrowing his eyes.

Draco stared across the table at them and then shifted his eyes down. He knew that Hermione wouldn’t be happy with him for telling Ron and Harry, but it didn’t appear that he even had a choice.

“It’s all true,” he finally said.

He didn’t realize he had been holding his breath, waiting for an outburst, until Harry said, “Well that was easy.”

Looking up, Draco looked at Harry confused.

“I’m sorry?” He said.

“We didn’t even break a sweat getting the information out of you,” Harry chuckled. 

“And if you’d gone to Hermione?” Draco asked.

“I wouldn’t have lived long enough to have a second kid with Luna,” Ron stated. “Fair warning, Hermione can be a bit … intense.”

Draco’s eyes shifted from Harry to Ron in disbelief.

“I clearly missed something,” he said. “Aren’t you two supposed to be hexing me or threatening my manhood?”

“You and Hermione are adults,” Harry shrugged. “Besides, like Ron said, Hermione can be intense.” He chuckled. “She once set a flock of birds on Ron for snogging Lavender Brown.”

“Bloody terrifying,” Ron shook his head. “Word to the wise, brush up on shield charms.”

Draco rubbed his forehead. He didn’t understand why Harry and Ron were being so supportive. Then it hit him. They thought he and Hermione were dating. They didn’t realize that it was just a fling. Or rather, that it had been just a fling for her while he wanted more.

“I need to tell you something,” he said. He wasn’t sure why he felt so overcome with the urge to tell them the truth, but something in his heart told him he needed to, because they and they alone would be able to help him win over Hermione.

“Hermione and I aren’t seeing each other,” he confessed. “We bumped into each other on holiday and one night it just happened.”

The smiles slipped off Ron and Harry’s faces at his confession.

“Don’t give me that,” Harry said, his voice suddenly cold. “You’ve made it quite clear in the last few years that you fancy her. So, what, now that you’ve had her, you’re going to move on to somebody else?” His glare sent a shiver down Draco’s back. “Don’t think for a minute that I won’t hesitate to kick your arse out of this house. Your mum will always be welcome here, but if you’re jerking Hermione around -”

“If anyone is being jerked around it’s me,” Draco cut him off.

“Oh come off it,” Ron scoffed. “You don’t actually expect us to believe that.”

“I _love_ Hermione,” Draco said, admitting it out loud for the first time. “It would be absolutely pointless for me to try and find someone else when my heart is already hers.”

Ron and Harry exchanged a look.

“Have you told her?” Harry asked.

“Are you kidding me?” Draco laughed. “She fled the damn Mediterranean after we had sex. I’m not about to tell her I love her. Either she’d leave the country or I’d find myself bullock less.”

“Sounds like you already are, mate,” Ron stated.

Draco glared at him and then at Harry who seemed to be fighting back laughter.

“Imagine that Hermione didn’t like you very much,” he said, moving the topic away from his bullocks. “Then picture yourself telling her that you love her and want to be with her.”

“The birds would be the least of your worries,” Ron muttered.

“Exactly,” Draco nodded.

“Hermione wouldn’t just give it up like that though,” Harry muttered. “So she must feel something for you.”

“You’d just have to get her to admit it first,” Ron said, picking up where Harry left off.

“Easier said than done,” Draco muttered.

“On your own it is,” Harry stated. “But we’re here to help.”

Draco looked from Harry to Ron and then back at Harry. “What?”

“You want to win Hermione over, so you’ll need all the help you can get,” Harry stated.

Draco sat back in disbelief as Harry and Ron started talking. He had to be dreaming.

\-----

Hermione knew something was up when she opened her front door and found Harry, Ginny and baby James on her doorstep.

“We were in the area and thought we’d stop by,” Ginny informed her before Hermione even greeted them. “Mind if we come in? I need to feed Jamie.”

“Uh sure,” Hermione replied, stepping aside to let them in.

She followed them into her sitting room and watched as Ginny made herself right at home on the sofa while Harry rocked a fussy James. Minutes later, the littlest Potter was in Ginny’s arms and nursing.

“What did you say you were doing in my area again?” Hermione asked Harry. The odd timing of the visit was the first red flag in her mind and the fact that they just _happened_ to be in the area was the second. Shortly after their marriage, they had purchased a house near The Burrow while Hermione had opted to buy a little cottage near the ocean on the Eastern side of the country.

“You know,” Harry shrugged. “Wanted to take James for a walk.”

“Just because you _walked_ from the apparition spot in the backyard, doesn’t count as taking your son for a walk,” she informed him. “What is this really about?”

“We’re just worried about you,” Harry said. “Honest.”

“There is -”

“We know you slept with Draco,” Ginny stated.

And there it was. Hermione sucked in a deep breath as she stumbled into the armchair behind her.

“H- how?” She asked.

“Ron and I had a feeling that something had happened between you and Draco,” Harry said. “And when you both tensed at Ginny mentioning that you had probably slept with someone we all knew, we realized it had to be true.”

“You figured all that out just from our body language?” Hermione asked, in disbelief. She knew that Ron and Harry were good at what they did, but she didn’t believe for once second that they were that good.

“Well, mostly,” Harry said. “We found out everything when we talked to Draco.”

“WHAT?!” Hermione exclaimed, her stomach jumping to her throat.

Her loud outburst caused James to start crying and Ginny, seeming to know what was about to happen, left to finish feeding him someplace quieter.

“You talked to Draco,” Hermione said, trying to keep her voice quiet. Her mind was so scattered that she didn’t know what to do or what else to say.

“Yes,” Harry nodded. “It was a rather enlightening conversation as well.”

“What in Merlin’s name is that supposed to mean?” Hermione demanded.

“I’d love to tell you, but I can’t,” Harry replied.

“Can’t tell me?!” Hermione shrieked. “You and Ron are _my_ best friends! You shouldn’t be keeping _his_ secrets!”

“In this case, Hermione, I have to,” Harry stated.

Hermione crossed her hands tightly over her chest and glared at Harry. She couldn’t believe her best friends had gone behind her back and talked with Draco. She could only imagine the stuff Draco told them and how much of it they had believed. On top of it all, there was that damn secret that Harry refused to tell her. Some friend he was!

“I don’t suppose Draco mentioned that he followed me to the Mediterranean and that he was stalking me there during your little chat,” she spat at Harry after several minutes of silence.

“He didn’t following you,” Ginny informed her, coming into the room with a sleeping James in her arms.

“Oh, please,” Hermione scoffed. “So it was just a coincidence, or _fate_ as he called it, that we both happened to be in that part of the world in hotel rooms right next to each other at the very same time?”

“Yes,” Harry and Ginny answered.

“Right,” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“If you must know, it was your fault,” Ginny informed her.

“MY FAULT?!” Hermione exclaimed.

“You left the brochure for your fancy muggle hotel at Andromeda’s place the last time you babysat Teddy,” Ginny told her. “Narcissa found it when we were all over there for dinner a week or so later and we got to talking and she decided that she and Draco needed a holiday.”

“His mother wasn’t there with him,” Hermione interrupted. “Was she?”

“No,” Harry answered. “She wanted a holiday from Grimmauld Place, so she sent Draco to the Mediterranean for two weeks and she stayed with Andromeda and Teddy.”

Hermione sank back against her chair at this starting revelation. So it had all been a coincidence? _Fate_ a voice that sounded like Draco said in her head. Shaking her head, she remembered accusing him of stalking her and he hadn’t confirmed or denied it.

“Why didn’t he just tell me that?” She asked aloud. “I accused him of stalking me.”

“From what I gathered from talking to him, he rather likes it when you’re feisty,” Harry smirked. 

“He’s such an idiot,” Hermione muttered.

“You will be too if you let him go,” Ginny stated. Then without giving Hermione a chance to retort or even think of a retort, for that matter, Ginny turned to Harry and said, “We should go. Jamie fell asleep while eating. I’m sure it won’t be long before he’s awake and hungry again.”

Hermione said goodbye to them and then watched as they disappeared via the floo network. Once they were gone, she redid the wards and collapsed onto the sofa.

As she lay there, her swirling mind kept coming back to one thing: he hadn’t followed her there. It was coincidence, _maybe_ even fate, that brought them together on their holiday.

\-----

Harry’s voice echoed through Draco’s mind as he made his way to Hermione’s office.

“ _Just take things slowly. I know you want to be with her yesterday, but you have to let her figure it out on her own. She doesn’t like to be pushed and will push back if she feels threatened._ ”

Drawing in a deep breath, Draco raised his hand and knocked on her door.

“Come in,” he heard her call.

He wished himself good luck and went into the office. “Morning,” he greeted.

“Morning,” she replied, not looking up from the parchment in front of her. “Have a seat, I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Feeling somewhat ridiculous because of the butterflies in his stomach, Draco sat down and crossed his leg over his knee. He wasn’t sure why Hermione had suddenly made herself available for meetings with him again, but he wasn’t going to complain. Her associate editor had been more interested in flirting with him than getting any work done.

This meeting was the first meeting between the two of them since before their holiday. He had to fight back a smirk as the last time he had been alone with her came to mind. She had been lying in his bed, chest heaving from an “earth shattering” orgasm, or so she had called it.

They sat in silence for several minutes before she tucked the parchment away and turned her attention to him.

“Shall we get to work then?” She asked. “What does the Minister have to say about the current state of the paper?”

“Minister Shacklebolt wanted me to assure you that he is _still_ very pleased with the way you have made the Prophet into a distinguished, yet truthful paper,” he replied. “His secretary sent me a list of announcements that will be happening over the course of the next few weeks in order to give you time to plan.”

Their meeting went on for nearly an hour and more than once, Draco swore he saw her lips curl into a small smile, but each time, it vanished just as quickly as it appeared. 

It wasn’t until he was in his own office that he allowed himself to react to the cream blouse and black skirt she had been wearing. Both fit her extremely well and he couldn’t help but wonder what color knickers she was wearing; especially when he knew without a doubt that it wasn’t a pair of white cotton ones.

He wanted nothing more than to climb over her desk, push her against the wall and go down on her again, but he knew wouldn’t happen. At least not until she gave permission.

Over the next couple weeks, Draco was on his best behavior. He’d leave his office, telling himself he could get through the meeting and that this would all be over soon, and sit through the meeting, before returning to his office and remembering every little detail.

Sometimes he wondered if she was playing with him. Like the time she wore her hair up, revealing her long, sexy neck and reminding him of how she tasted. Then there was the time when she sucked on a sugar quill. Needless to say that meeting had been a very, _very_ short one.

The last meeting had been the worse though; she had leaned over her desk for something, giving him a good look down her shirt and he had seen the lacy green bra from _their_ night. He had felt his pants tighten instantly and swore that her cheeks looked a little flushed as she straightened back up.

Upon returning to his office, he wanted nothing more than to send Hermione flowers and beg her to go out with him. But then he remembered the bra, the fact that she hadn’t thrown it away or burned it had to be a sign that she wasn’t totally against the idea of being with him.

Ron’s words entered his mind, “ _Just wait. When she’s ready, she’ll come to you_.”

\-----

Hours later, Hermione still wasn’t sure what had made her lean over her desk and show Draco what bra she was wearing. To be honest, she hadn’t planned on ever wearing that bra or those knickers again, but when she was dressing that morning, she had an overwhelming urge to wear them.

Then, in the hours before her meeting with Draco, she had pictured him sauntering into the room and, instead of sitting where he normally sat, he came around the desk, picked her up and sat down in her chair. Then Fantasy!Draco had made love to her like he had the first time they’d been together.

“And we’ve lost her again,” Ginny’s voice interrupted the daydream.

Hermione blinked a couple times before her eyes focused on the grinning red head.

“My mum always said that it is in only in our dreams that we can be the people we really want to be,” the third member of their trio said, her voice dreamlike.

“And with that I must ask, Hermione, how is Draco?” Ginny smirked.

Hermione felt her face heat up.

“Oh, are you finally seeing Draco?” Luna asked. “Ron said something about Draco being in love with you.”

Hermione paused mid-sip and looked at Luna. Draco had told Ron and Harry?

“Was it supposed to be a secret?” Luna asked, looking at Ginny.

Hermione moved her eyes to Ginny, too. The guilty look that crossed Ginny’s face was a dead giveaway.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked. “You’re my best friends.” Then she remembered the secret Harry refused to tell her. “That’s Draco’s secret, isn’t it? The one Harry wouldn’t tell me?”

Ginny nodded.

Hermione sighed and looked down at her drink. Draco didn’t seem to have any issue telling everyone else he was in love with her and yet, he hadn’t acted like he was even remotely interested in her since they’d gotten back.

Maybe his disinterest was the reason she’d been looking for any reason for him to notice her. The tighter clothes, wearing her hair up and showing off her bra all seemed like desperate pleas for attention, now that she took a minute to think about it.

So what did it all mean? Why had he told her best friends that he was in love with her and then shown nothing of the sort towards her?

The reason came crashing down upon her all at once.

Harry and Ron would have killed him if he had admitted that he’d only wanted sex. He had obviously lied to them so they wouldn’t kill him.

She had forgotten all about Luna and Ginny until she had heard the dreamlike voice ask, “How long have you been in love with him?”

Hermione’s heart stopped and she stared across the table at Luna. “I- I’m not,” she said, quickly. Then, before she could stop herself, she told them what she’d just realized, “He isn’t interested in me and he certainly doesn’t love me. At least not anymore.”

“Hermione,” Ginny said.

“No, Ginny,” she cut her off. “I’m done. I’m going home.”

Hermione spent the weekend alone in her cottage and went through the next week on autopilot. She returned to her normal work style and conducted her meetings with Draco as professionally as she could muster. She tried desperately not to notice how good he looked in his work robes or how his blonde locks shimmered under just the right amount of light.

It wasn’t until Harry and Ron showed up, threatening to knock down her front door, that she was forced to address the issue of Draco.

Ron and Harry refused to believe her when she said that Draco had only been after her for sex. They informed her that the only reason Draco hadn’t seemed interested in her was because they had told him to back off and give her space.

“He’s just waiting for you to make the next move,” Harry told her before she forced he and Ron out of the house. “He loves you, Hermione.”

It was days later, when she was lying in bed that she remembered the way that he had kissed her the first time. While she had avoided his lips and gone straight for his cock, he had started at her lips, kissing her until she couldn’t think straight.

For her, that night had been about mutual pleasure and getting the release she had been aching for. But he had made love to every part of her body, touching her in places that no man ever had.

Then there had been the whispered “I love you.” It hadn’t been meant for her ears, but he had clearly told her his feelings before he told her friends. So maybe it was true, maybe he really did love her.

And maybe she loved him, too, but she still wasn’t sure. She thought she’d been in love with Ron, but that had proved to not be anything past a friendly-love.

“ _He’s just waiting for you to make the next move_ ,” Harry’s voice echoed through her head.

Maybe it was time she did.

\-----

Hermione had been in his office.

Draco could tell the second he’d walked in as the scent of her perfume lingered in the stillness.

Rounding his desk, he saw a roll of parchment tied with a green ribbon. He dropped his briefcase onto his desk and opened the letter.

_Draco,_

_Something has come up and I will have to postpone our 11am meeting until 5:30pm today. Please let me know by memo if that is ok._

_Hermion_

Somewhat frustrated for the late hour of the meeting, he quickly penned a reply and sent it memo style.

The hours dragged on as he waited for 5:30 to come. At one point, he was sure his watch had stopped working, as it had only gone five minutes in what seemed like an hour, but upon checking with his secretary about the time, his watch had proved correct.

When 5:30 finally arrived, Draco left his office and walked down the hall to Hermione’s office. Her secretary was packing up for the day and told him just to go in before she left.

Upon entering the office, he was surprised to find it dark and and Hermione’s desk empty.

Curious, he moved into the room and spun around when he heard the door shut behind him.

Then he felt something fabric-like flop onto his shoulder and then smelt the musky scent that he remembered being Hermione’s.

Reaching his hand out, he grabbed the fabric and saw that it was in fact a pair of knickers. More specifically, a pair of white, cotton knickers. And more importantly, ones that she had worn, and judging by the warmth of the cotton, had been wearing until recently.

“Those are my white flag of surrender,” she said, softly, from behind him. “Or rather, white _knickers_ of surrender.”

He turned and looked at her.

“And I believe, those are the type of knickers I always wore in your fantasies, are they not?”

“Yes,” he answered, roughly.

“I know you love me,” she told him. “I know because you told Harry and Ron, but also because you said you loved me that night.”

“I did?” His asked. He tried to remember when he might have said it and then he remembered the dream he’d had. In the dream, they had been on holiday together, but as a couple. She had told him that she loved her and he repeated it. “In my dream,” he finally said.

“I like you a lot, Draco,” she said. “But I’m not ready to tell you that I love you, because I’m not sure, but I figure that I’ll never know for sure if I don’t give us a chance.”

He held his breath, waiting for her to say she would be giving them a chance. The second the words left her lips that yes, she was going to give them a chance, he pulled her against him and kissed her.

It took several seconds of kissing, but he finally remembered her lack of knickers.

He pulled his lips from hers and pushed her backwards until her back was against the door. Then he knelt down in front of her, lifted her skirt and ran his tongue over her clit.

He was going to make her fall in love with him if it was the last thing he did.

He knew it would take long hours of talking, even more hours of making love and certainly more private meetings in her office. They’d use the door tonight, but he was sure they’d eventually find new uses for her desk, chair and any other pieces of furniture that could withstand the weight of one if not both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> BelleBelles, I hope you enjoyed the story! I'm sorry I couldn't work in any of the other parts of your request.


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